New Year's Eve

1. I don't like hearing that my precious may be ill,
2. whenever Disk First Aid tells me Nero has a disk problem, I have to unplug Nero, take it upstairs to the upstairs office, attach it as a slave disk to the upstairs machine, run Disk First Aid, fix Nero, and then run Nero back downstairs,
3. and when Nero has disk problems, Internet Explorer crashes continually, which makes websurfing very difficult.

Clearly this running up and down of stairs will not last. I have to get a copy of Norton Utilities on CDRom.

One thing that makes me happy is FOX's When New Year's Eve Attacks. This title makes fun, of course, of their cheesy (and immensely high-rated) programs, When Animals Attack and World's Scariest Police Officers (or something).

Actually, the New Year's Eve show sucks, but it's a New Year's Eve show--of course it sucks. Special guest musical act is Chumbawumba, performers of my favorite song, Do you suffer from long-term memory loss? (I don't remember).

Anybody out there remember Guy Lombardo? I never understood how "Auld Lang Syne" had anything to do with remembering old friends, but I did think that Guy was going to keep at it until we stopped having New Year's. Would we have Dick Clark's Rock and Roll New Year's if Guy were still around? I think not.

The silliest thing I ever did--I was tiny, okay?--was try to keep a little piece of 1975 in a box. I closed up a box and was never going to open it again. Even then, I had a sense that time was slipping by.

I am celebrating this New Year's alone so far. Darin and Harry went off to see a movie, but Darin got a flat and they missed the movie. They fixed the tire and decided to go see another movie.

I went to get a manicure--a festive metallic red this time--then dropped by the grocery store, where I bought some Gouda cheese (which never fails to remind me of Berlin, where I lived on the stuff) and tawny port (which I just like the taste of and doesn't remind me of anywhere in particular, except maybe Rob and Laura's house).

Yes, folks: I'm drinking alone and I'm armed with Tarot cards. Nobody move and your future stays intact.

Sipping port and eating Gouda and doing my annual Tarot spread predicting the coming year seems overwhelming decadent. I am, however, having a lot of fun. Except for the part where I have to go fix Nero.

The other thing I've been doing as I sit here is reading cookbooks. I have a secret wish to be a good cook, but it looks so darn hard. I know I'm going to have to take up cooking at some point--as our friend Brent points out, children have to be fed on schedule. You can't just decide to skip a meal.

(No, there are no kids. But at some point...)

Another new Godzilla ad! I think Emmerich and Devlin make crappy movies, but they have great marketing.

The cards said 1998 is going to be a great year. But I think I knew that already.